


But I Want To Stay

by momebie (katilara)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katilara/pseuds/momebie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Noah says you kissed him.” Gansey is tracing his lower lip with his thumb. His voice is low.</p>
<p>Blue looks between them, a spike of betrayed anger flaring in her chest. “I thought you didn’t tell other people’s secrets!”</p>
<p>Noah holds up his hands. Gansey reaches out and touches her shoulder. It takes a lot of effort not to flinch away.</p>
<p>“No, Jane, Blue, it’s okay. I—” He pauses, unsure of how to continue, which is handy because Blue isn’t sure she wants him to. He pulls his hand away and drops it onto his knee. “I thought he could kiss you for me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Want To Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weesaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weesaw/gifts), [getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine/gifts).



> This is for [lisapizza](http://tmblr.co/myTqzacjsuHJAGbPOBKOPTw) and [getawaymachine](http://tmblr.co/mdpbukCPi0X2KkL6HgeNsMQ), who both wanted a Blue/Gansey/Noah coda to the prom fic. It takes place directly after [All I Hear Is Your Song](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4562196). Happy birthdays, ladies. I hope it's to your liking. <333
> 
> The title for this also comes from 'Fuego' by Murder By Death, because I'm running with a theme, apparently.

At about one in the morning, the music turns off and the lights go up. The Aglionby Spring Formal is officially over. Blue and Gansey stream out into the night with the rest of the students who haven’t given in to drunkenness or the promise of drunkenness.

Gansey wraps an arm around her shoulder and holds her close as they walk away from the school and the appraising eyes of its students. It’s exhausting, constantly being summed up like that. She doesn’t know how any of the boys manage to get any work done during the school day. Maybe the uniforms help, but she imagines not.

“Did you have fun, Jane?”

The evening air is cool. She hunches her shoulders against it and leans closer to him. “It wasn’t bad, for your typical display of patriarchal fetishism and arcane mating rituals.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he says, giving her a squeeze.

Blue can’t help but smile. She turns her head to hide it against her shoulder. Sometimes she feels like she maybe gives Gansey more shit than he strictly deserves, but he meets it every time, never flinching or shying away. Calla had always told her not to worry about boys, because there would never be a boy who was worthy of her. She used to believe that. 

The Pig looks even more garish than usual against the yellowing pavement under the harsh glare of the parking lot lights. “I can’t believe you drive this car on purpose,” she says. 

“I can’t believe you ride around in this car on purpose,” he shoots back. Then he unlocks her door for her and helps her in. She leans across the cab and unlocks the driver’s side door for him before he makes it back around. 

Gansey settles into the driver’s seat and pulls out his keys. “Where to now, my lady?” 

Noah appears in the back seat and leans against her shoulder, poking his head between them. “I could really go for some tater tots,” he says. 

Gansey looks back at him and Blue can tell he’s fighting the small smile threatening to bloom across his lips. “You mean you could watch us eat tater tots.” 

Blue ruffles Noah’s hair. “I could stand to be creepily stared at by a ghost while eating fast food.” 

“Fast food it is then!” Gansey says, and pulls out of the parking lot and into the Henrietta night.

*** * ***

There’s a drive-in fast food restaurant a few miles up the highway. They get out to order and eat at one of the red metal picnic tables. Gansey gives Blue his suit jacket to wear over her dress. He and Blue share a seat and Noah sits in the middle of the table with his legs crossed, looking down at them with his chin in his hands like some sort of early 2000s buddha.

“The path to enlightenment,” he says, leaning forward and upsetting Gansey’s fries. “Is to not sweat the small stuff.” 

Blue wrinkles her nose. “That’s a terrible cliche.”

“There’s a reason things become cliches,” Gansey says, trying to salvage what he can of his food. 

“Kind of like how ghosts make terrible roommates?” She winks at Noah, who is dramatically offended. 

“I’m the least terrible person in that place!”

“You’re certainly the least smelly.” She pokes Gansey in the ribs. 

Gansey frowns around his chicken finger. “I make Ronan wash at least once a week.” 

“And what a marvelous contribution to society you are making,” Blue teases. She reaches under the table and squeezes his knee. He leans in a little closer to her. 

Noah looks between them. He dims. “It’s getting late. I’m going to go.” 

“Before you turn into a pumpkin?” Blue reaches out and squeezes his knee too. 

She doesn’t know what to do about the way the lines feel divided all of a sudden. Like Adam and Ronan have chosen each other and she and Gansey have chosen each other, but no one has chosen Noah. She knows it’s not true. She knows they’ve all chosen Noah and each other, but it’s hard to show it at times like this. 

“The ghostly gourds will have their revenge,” Noah says seriously. Then he fades out. 

Left alone, Blue is much more conscious of the fact that she and Gansey are huddled together at a table that can seat at least eight. She’s always hated that at work, the couples who sit on the same side of the booth like it would kill them to be four feet apart for more than half an hour. Maybe, though. Maybe those obnoxious, touchy feely people know something that she doesn’t. 

Gansey slurps his soda and the straw makes an absurd amount of noise as he gets to the bottom of it. “Do you want to go somewhere?” 

“We could just drive,” she says. “Like usual.” 

“That’s fine with me.” 

Gansey clears up their litter and they get back into the Pig, destination unknown.

*** * ***

They end up parked in the cul-de-sac of an unfinished subdivision. There are paved roads and charming, lantern-esque street lights that aren’t lit. There are no homes or other buildings. The whole scene seems to be holding its breath, as if the lanterns and all the rest of it are simply waiting for Mr. Tumnus to happen by and give them life.

The subdivision-to-be backs up to a dense section of forest. They get out and tromp around for a little bit. Blue keeps up as well as she can in her wedges, the sleeves of Gansey's suit jacket trailing against the brush as she goes past. With no Welsh wonder to keep Gansey’s attention the forest is just a forest, even though it is beautifully dappled in the moonlight. Less than fifteen minutes after they’d slipped into the underbrush they’re back, perched on the hood of the Pig and looking up at the sky. 

“It’s a shame they’re going to put houses here and not a single person who lives in them will get to see the stars the way we are now,” she says.

“It is a stunning view.” Gansey pulls Blue sideways until she’s leaning against his lap. He wraps his arms around her and dips his head down, burrowing his nose between the collar of his jacket and her neck.

Blue is hot everywhere he’s touching her, even through the layers of fabric. He slips his hand inside the jacket and wraps his arm around her waist. His fingers are warm against the bits of skin accessible through the holes in the tulle. She wants him to touch more of her. She needs to think about something else.

“What do you think Ronan and Adam are up to?” She hopes she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels.

Gansey hums and she can feel the vibration from his neck where it’s pressed against hers. “Nothing good, I imagine” 

“Trust your friends that much, huh?”

He laughs. “I do always trust Ronan to be Ronan.” 

“But Adam’s there too. He’s…” 

She doesn’t know what he is these days. She means to say that he’s responsible, and he is. Adam’s the hardest working, most responsible person she knows, adults included. But maybe sensible isn’t something that extends to Ronan no matter how responsible the other person means to be. Not that she would be upset if Ronan made Adam forget himself for a minute the way she’d never been able to. Adam deserves that. 

“Yeah,” Gansey says. “He is. But the course of true love never did run smooth.” 

Now it’s Blue’s turn to laugh. “They’re eighteen, old man, and it’s been three days. I don’t know that ‘true’ counts yet.” 

Gansey pulls away and stands up straight. She misses the press of him immediately. “And here I thought I was the one not giving people the benefit of the doubt. They know their minds, I’m sure.” 

“Do they?” she asks, but it’s not about Ronan and Adam. She’s not sure if she can trust her own mind or her own body. Why does wanting have to hurt so much? When Gansey doesn’t answer she says, “I’m cold.”

Gansey runs his hands up and down her arms, the fabric of the suit jacket catching and pulling as he does. “We could go to Cabeswater. It might make itself warm?”

“I don’t want any magic right now. It’s been such a nice night with no one dying or getting sucked into a cave or possessed by a sleeper or whatever.” She tilts her head back against his chest and looks up at him. He’s looking down his nose at her and from this viewpoint he looks quite birdlike, all beak and wise eyes. He could be their raven king. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks. 

“No.” Blue shakes her head. His face and the stars go blurry as she does it. Going home would mean leaving this. Leaving this would mean the night is over. She doesn’t want the night to be over.

His gusty, relieved exhale at her answer pleases her. She always knows she’s not alone in this, but they spend so much time keeping it buttoned down that sometimes she feels like she is. 

“I told my mom not to expect me,” she says. 

Gansey gives her a lopsided grin. “And she accepted that?” 

“Are you insinuating my mother shouldn’t trust me, Dick?” She turns around and wraps her arms around his neck like they’re dancing again. He’s so solid and so real. It’s impossible to think that one day he might not be there. That one day he’ll be obscured, just like these stars will be. “Or is it that she shouldn’t trust you?”

“Blue,” he says, voice shaky. He inhales deep.

This could be enough, she thinks. Just the two of them together like this. 

She stands up on her toes and rubs her nose against his. He exhales and inhales deeply again. He slips both hands back into the jacket and holds her close, hands tight against her waist. They stand like that for several long minutes, breath and bodies and hearts syncing up. Who is she kidding? This will never be enough. 

“Can we go back to Monmouth? I kind of want to change.” 

“As you wish,” Gansey says. 

When he starts up the Pig again, the sound of the loping engine splits the night. The shiver that runs through the darkness is palpable as it runs through her as well.

*** * ***

She realizes her folly as she’s kicking her shoes off by the door. She hasn’t brought anything to change in to. So much for being sensible. Gansey picks through what she hopes is a pile of clean clothing stacked precariously on his desk chair and hands over a grey t-shirt that says AGLIONBY ATHLETICS across the chest and a pair of blue basketball shorts with a drawstring.

Blue stands in the bathroom/laundry/kitchen for a moment debating whether or not to keep wearing her bra, but the thought of sleeping in a strapless bra makes her want to strangle whoever invented bras, so she takes it off and hopes he won’t really notice. The t-shirt and shorts are both big on her, which she expected, but comically so which she had not. 

She catches her reflection in the mirror, curls a wreck, looking like a painted coat hanger as the makeup she’d let Orla put on her face starts to wear away in patches and smudge darkly around her eyes. Blue finds a washcloth on top of the washing machine and scrubs at her face with it until she’s red and dripping. Then she runs her fingers through her hair until the curls are no more than untidy memories. She feels more like herself already. 

When she comes out of the bathroom Noah is sitting in the middle of Gansey’s bed with Gansey, who has changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants and his glasses. 

“You didn’t turn into a pumpkin after all,” she says, stepping over the model Henrietta. 

She comes to a stop at the edge of the bed. She wants to join them on it the way she’s been on it a hundred times with no motive other than not sitting on the floor. Tonight feels different though, daring, and Gansey is looking at her with hooded eyes that she doesn’t recognize. 

“Noah says you kissed him.” Gansey is tracing his lower lip with his thumb. His voice is low. 

Blue looks between them, a spike of betrayed anger flaring in her chest. “I thought you didn’t tell other people’s secrets!” 

Noah holds up his hands. Gansey reaches out and touches her shoulder. It takes a lot of effort not to flinch away.

“No, Jane, Blue, it’s okay. I—” He pauses, unsure of how to continue, which is handy because Blue isn’t sure she wants him to. He pulls his hand away and drops it onto his knee. “I thought he could kiss you for me.” 

Blue puts her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t sound any better, you know that, right? That is weird and voyeuristic, even without the ghost element.” 

“No, I, god.” Gansey drops his head into his hands. “I don’t have the words to ask for what I want,” he tells the comforter. “I want to touch you so badly and, and I think you also want to touch me, but we can’t, because of this thing. I just thought, maybe if your lips were occupied it wouldn’t be as dangerous.” 

“You don’t have to,” Noah says, speaking up finally. “It was just a thought.” 

“You know it’s a weird thought, right?” Blue says, eyeing them both. 

Gansey nods his head grimly. Noah just holds her gaze. She wraps her arms around herself and stands there on the edge of every possible thing for what feels like a very long time as the seconds stretch out between the three of them. 

“Okay,” she says finally. “How do we…?”

Gansey scoots back on his bed and she climbs up onto it. She perches on the edge on her knees and there’s just enough room between them for another person. Gansey reaches out and cups her cheek in his hand. She closes her eyes and nuzzles into it. Gansey sighs. He brings his other hand up and gently uses his fingertips to trace the curve of her neck, across her shoulder, and down her arm until the sleeve of the t-shirt ends. Then he brings his fingers back up under it to the crown of her shoulder and holds on tight. 

She’s hot again, every part of her body clamoring for more, and then Noah is there, his cool cheek pressed against hers. She opens her eyes. Over Noah’s shoulder, Gansey has a determined look on his face. 

“Can I kiss you now?” Noah asks softly. 

Gansey nods. 

“Alright, Casper,” Blue says. 

Noah pokes her in the stomach in retaliation and she lets out a laugh that he covers over with his cool, dry lips. 

It’s not at all like last time. Last time they had been alone, both longing for something they couldn’t have. There are still things they can’t have, but those don’t seem to loom quite as large right now with Noah’s hands in her hair and Gansey’s hands sliding down her sides, the warmth of him seeping through the t-shirt. When he gets to the hem where it’s pooling around her waist he tugs at it lightly and then slips his hands inside, fingers searching over the flat of her stomach. 

“Can I?” he asks, inching one hand up further. 

She pulls away from Noah slightly and Noah slides his lips down across her jaw. She shivers. “Yeah, but only if you take off yours.” 

Gansey raises an eyebrow. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says. But he leans back and pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

Blue has seen all of her boys shirtless many times, because they’re boys and it gets hot in the summer and they’re lazy assholes and a whole bunch of other, careless reasons that boys get away with the sort of casual nudity that girls don’t. This nudity though, this is not casual. This is nudity with intent. When Gansey leans forward again she reaches around Noah and splays the palm of her hand flat against his chest. His skin is hot beneath her fingertips and his heart is beating frantically beneath the cage of his ribs. 

Noah rests his arms on her shoulders and kisses her neck. She tilts her head sideways and watches Gansey’s face as he slowly slides his fingers underneath the shirt and across the skin of her waist. He’s concentrating, brows furrowed, eyes half-closed, not really looking at anything. 

“Hey,” she says, and pinches his nipple, trying to lighten the mood. 

Gansey lets out a groan that she had not expected and it shoots straight to the core of her. “Not fair,” he says, and then slides his hands up to cup her breasts. 

She inhales sharply as his thumbs rub lazily across her nipples in retaliation. With every swipe there’s an urging ache that spools through her. She arches her back, pushing closer to Noah. Gansey’s hands get caught between them. 

“Gansey,” she chokes out.

Gansey dips his head forward and kisses the nape of Noah’s neck above his uniform. Noah sighs and a gust of cold air rushes down the neck of her t-shirt. It mingles with the warmth of Gansey’s hands and she can feel goosebumps raising across the skin of her chest and back. She shudders. Her legs are starting to cramp where she’s sitting on them. 

Blue leans up and stretches her arms around both sets of shoulders. She presses her cheek into Gansey’s temple and Gansey pulls his lips away from Noah’s neck. Noah is suddenly no longer between them. Gansey topples over backwards as her weight shifts and she goes with him. 

“Oof,” he grunts, as she lands on his stomach.

He looks up at her, eyes frantic. They’re in a tangle of limbs and their lips are too close together. It would be so easy to….

She quickly turns her head away and looks at the ceiling. Gansey runs one hand up and down her back underneath the shirt, calloused fingers skimming over her skin, smoothing away the goosebumps. He is also looking away, eyes toward his headboard, lips in a tight thin line. They hold each other for a minute that feels like a year, then Noah is back. He’s lying on his side next to Gansey with a questioning tilt to his chin. Gansey kisses him.

The press of their lips is something Blue can’t take her eyes off of. Gansey kisses Noah fiercely and awkwardly, paying no attention at all to where his hungry, curious lips are actually landing. He wraps one arm around Blue’s waist and uses his free hand to cup the back of Noah’s head. Blue reaches out to clasp Noah’s hand in hers. 

She settles her cheek onto Gansey’s shoulder and draws light spirals down his side with the tip of her fingers. His breathing is heavy, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her like a river swelling against its barricades. When he pulls away from Noah he’s gasping for breath, his fingers twisted tightly in the ghostly wisps of Noah’s hair. 

“Blue,” he says, voice rough. 

Noah nods and slides closer to Gansey, leaning across his chest so he can catch Blue’s lips with his own. She kisses the memory of Gansey off Noah’s lips, and then she’s just kissing Noah. She runs a hand through his hair and slips the other up under his uniform shirt. The skin beneath it is just as cold as every other part of him, but he leans into the touch, so she lets her hands roam. He never truly warms, but she thinks she might get used to the feel of him. As if she’s dipping her toes into the river and waiting for her body to welcome the whole of it. Tonight her body is very welcoming.

Gansey anchors them both with his arms around their waists. He keeps his head tilted back, inhaling and exhaling slowly, deeply. It’s perfect. It’s all too much and she doesn’t want it to go farther, because she’s not sure she’s ready to live with parts of Gansey that she might not ever have again. 

“I—,” she sighs into Noah’s mouth, but she doesn’t finish the thought. She doesn’t know how she wants to finish it. ‘I love you’ doesn’t feel like enough while at the same time feeling too large. She doesn’t know if there’s a word in existence to explain the all-encompassing melee of emotion that courses through her when any of them look at her. Instead, she kisses Noah on the cheek and says, “Thank you.” 

“No, you,” Noah says, and returns it with a kiss to her cheek, featherlight and prickling. 

He lets go of her and rolls away. He tries to kiss Gansey on the cheek, but Gansey cups Noah’s chin in his hand and holds him close for another proper kiss. 

“You don’t have to go, do you?” Gansey says. 

“I can try to stay,” Noah replies. He crawls up the bed and drops his head into the indent between the two pillows. 

Gansey wraps his arms around Blue’s shoulders and buries his face in her hair. He holds on to her tightly for a long moment before letting go. “I’m gonna,” he says, gesturing to his pajama pants. 

“Yeah.” She slides off him so he can sit up. 

He catches her cheek with his hand and then slides it down her chest over the t-shirt. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. 

“You too,” she says, because he is. His glasses are askew and his skin is flushed deep pink across his cheeks and neck and chest. His hair is a mess from Noah running his fingers through it. His lips are swollen and red. Blue reaches out and runs her thumb across them. Gansey holds very still as she does it. She can feel his breath as it ghosts over her hand. He swallows hard. She pulls away. “Go on.” 

Gansey climbs out of the bed and adjusts himself before edging around the model Henrietta and disappearing into the bathroom/laundry/kitchen. 

Blue crawls up the bed and drops down next to Noah. Her legs feel tangled in the twists of smooth fabric of the basketball shorts. They really are ridiculous and she wonders why Gansey even owns them. 

“Every boy has that phase,” Noah says. 

“Do they? What was yours like?” She wraps her arms around him and holds him close, trying to convey how important he is to her, very conscious of not wanting him to feel used. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if that was the case,” he says, turning his face so that his lips are against her shoulder. “And mine involved gold chains.”

She giggles. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” He nods and his hair tickles her chin. 

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to jive with the school uniform.” 

“I wasn’t in the uniform all of the time then,” he huffs. 

“I guess not,” Blue says. She kisses the top of his head and he curls into her. She closes her eyes and tries to convince her body she’s calm enough to rest. 

Gansey turns the light out and crosses to the bed. Blue feels the first dip of the mattress and then nothing else. When she opens her eyes again she sees Gansey looking down at them, squinting because he’s taken his glasses off. Blue reaches out a hand and he takes it, but doesn’t move to lie down. 

“I,” he clears his throat. “I love both of you, all of you, more than I know how to say.” 

“Then don’t say anything, dork.” She tugs on his hand and he topples over and curls himself around Noah’s back, wrapping one arm around Noah’s waist. He uses his free hand to trace her cheek and neck down and up again. “You should take a picture,” she says. “It’ll last longer.” 

“I don’t know that any picture could ever do you justice.” 

“Well, if you’re going to just be gross,” Noah says, and with one last kiss to Blue’s forehead, he fades out. 

Suddenly there is nothing between her and Gansey. Nothing but their bare want, hardly sated by getting approximately what they desire. Suddenly this simple act of existing once again feels like looking over the edge of a cliff and knowing she could jump if she wanted. She wants to. Every part of her wants to. 

Gansey pulls her close and tucks her head under his chin. “Go to sleep, Blue.” 

“You can’t make me,” she says, and then yawns, because her body is a traitor in all ways. 

“Mmhmm,” Gansey hums. He shifts around for a few moments, trying to get comfortable. When he stills it feels like the whole of the night stills with him.

Blue doesn’t know how long she’s awake next to him in the dark thinking about a life she’s not allowed to have, one where they go to the same college and get to move in together and touch each other however they want whenever they want. They don’t have to hide from Adam anymore, but they’re still hiding from fate. Or trying to. That’s probably impossible, but they wouldn’t be the first people who tricked themselves into thinking they could beat it, she’s sure.

He breathes steadily in and out and she tries to memorize every part of the moment: the weight of him next to her, the softness of the sheets and pillows against her shoulders and arms, the slightly scratchy quality of the comforter against her calves, how warm and alive he is. If Blue Sargent cried every time she remembered Gansey was supposed to die she’d never function, so she isn’t going to now, but she allows herself several shaky exhalations. She grips his hip tighter as if she can anchor him to her, as if she can be enough. 

Through the windows above her she watches the sky brighten from black to a navy that greys around the edges. Gansey disentangles himself from her, rolls onto his back, and stretches, letting out a soft groan as he does it. She stays still and pretends to be sleeping. 

He climbs off the bed and she listens as he goes about brushing his teeth and preparing for the day. Eventually he comes back to the bed and nudges her shoulder gently. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’m starving.” 

Blue pretends to wake. She rolls toward him and opens her eyes. “If you think I’m going to make you breakfast in your bathroom you are sorely mistaken.”

Gansey smirks. “I was thinking that little waffle place, off the highway.” 

“Nnnngh,” she groans, stretching. “Waffles.” 

“That’s what I thought. I’ll see if I can find you something closer to real pants. And maybe some sandals” 

Blue holds the pillow tight and tries to memorize this too, just the two of them in the morning preparing for a day that might hold anything at all, so long as it ends with the two of them still together.

*** * ***

When they enter the small diner it’s full to bursting with boys in various states of formal dress. They had clearly underestimated the call of waffles to the hungover elite. She feels a bit self-conscious about what she’s wearing like she never would be in her own clothes. But then again, she also never expected to see so many people at six in the morning.

There aren’t any empty tables, but Blue spots Adam in a booth near the back. She grabs Gansey’s hand without thinking and drags him in that direction. Adam looks up as they approach and smiles, the exhaustion pulling at his features much calmer than his usual near emptiness. He looks happy. 

“So you survived a whole night alone with Lynch, I see,” she says. 

“I’ve survived nights alone with him before,” he says lazily. He’s leaning against the hard, fake wood of the booth back, feet propped up on either side of Ronan’s thighs on the opposite seat. He’s lost his shoes somewhere. One of his socks is dark blue and the other one is purple plaid. 

“You just disappear?” She leans hard into the dad voice she’s heard Gansey use. “No call. No text.” 

“Don’t act like you even noticed,” Ronan says. He shoves a piece of sausage into his mouth. It’s dripping syrup. Next to her, Gansey shudders. Ronan pointedly looks down to where their hands are still clasped together. “It looks like you had more pressing matters.”

Blue reluctantly lets go. She reaches around and pretends to scratch her arm with her now empty fingers. “Says the boy with grass sticking to his collar.” 

“Says the girl wearing my t-shirt,” Ronan counters. 

Blue whips her head around to give Gansey a betrayed look. “I thought this was yours!”

Gansey is looking at his hand like it’s betrayed him. He shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. “Jane, the concept of ownership really doesn’t apply within the bounds of—”

“My virtue is intact, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Adam says, cutting Gansey off. He slides his plate across the table next to Ronan’s and then climbs out of his side of the booth to brush past both Blue and Gansey in the tight space between them and the bar stools behind them. 

Ronan doesn’t budge over from his place in the dead center of the bench, so Adam has to sit very close to him to not fall out of the booth. He leans over, lips brushing Adam’s jaw, and says, “Not for long.” 

Adam flusters, ears going pink. 

“Well mine too,” she says, feeling the need to declare something. 

Ronan looks up at her and raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t add comment. “Sit down, you’re making the waitress nervous.” 

Blue can feel heat rushing to her cheeks and a warmth blooming in her gut. For once, everything and everyone she loves seems okay. Relatively, anyway. This is good, she thinks. We deserve this. She slides into Adam’s vacated seat. 

Gansey tumbles in next to her, looking around. “Is that Tad and Henry?” he asks. 

Blue follows his gaze to a booth near the front window. The two boys are in a similarly disheveled state to Ronan and Adam, but the way they’re sitting does not suggest the same sort of intimacy. If she had to guess she’d assume they were simply hung over after a long night of the usual asshole mischief. As if he can feel their eyes on him, Henry looks right at her. She swings her gaze away quickly. 

“It is,” Ronan says. “It’s why you just standing at our table in particular was making the waitress nervous.” 

“What did you do?” Gansey sits up straight and gives Ronan the most authoritative look Blue thinks he’s capable of pulling off at 6:30 in the morning after maybe an hour’s sleep. She’s impressed. Ronan stares back, unmoved.

Adam runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Ronan and Tad had a jukebox war.” 

“Please don’t tell me,” Gansey says, grimacing. 

“Look,” Ronan replies. “If they didn’t want me to live la vida loca they wouldn’t leave it in jukeboxes in shitty restaurants across the state.” 

“I think they were fine with it the first few times,” Adam says optimistically. 

“What did Tad counter with?” Blue asks. 

Now it’s Ronan’s turn to grimace. “Johnny Cash.” 

Gansey adjusts his glasses and reaches across Blue to pull one of the sticky plastic menus out from behind the napkin holder. “Classic.”

Adam elbows Ronan in the side. “Told you he’d side with the enemy.”

“This isn’t about sides,” Gansey says absently, clearly on autopilot. Blue has to wonder exactly how many times they’ve had this conversation. “It’s about the history of a prevalent American musical style and the importance of heritage.” 

Blue is suddenly more hungry and tired than she’d realized she was. She drops her head onto the table. “It is too early for this,” she says, voice echoing back at her weirdly from the chipped Formica. Then, to drive the point home, “I hate all of you.” 

It’s been surreal, having the whole night with Gansey. Her lips are still tingling faintly from the transferred kisses. She knows the memory of Gansey’s fingers against her bare skin is going to be intermittently inconvenient for maybe the rest of her life. She has no idea how she’s going to go home. Calla’s not even going to have to touch her to find out what happened. She’s just going to take one good look at Blue and ground her forever. 

It’s been so easy to feel like the whole rest of the world dropped away, like she could just have that—the trembling excitement and steadying heat of another body against hers. But of course, she can’t. This is the reality of the situation. Life is full of her boys bickering and silverware clinking and the smell of food she can’t eat. Life has always been anything but perfect. It will continue to be. 

But then, she thinks that might be the point.

When she looks up again Noah has appeared to Ronan’s other side and all of her boys are looking at her. There’s a contemplative tilt to Ronan’s tired brow that she can’t read and doesn’t really want to have to translate. 

“Fine,” she says. “I don’t hate you. You’re all still assholes, though.”

Adam pushes his plate toward her and tilts his head against the booth back so that it’s not quite sitting on Ronan’s shoulder. He closes his eyes. “We like you too,” he says. 

Blue pulls a handful of cold fries off his plate. “Good,” she says. “I guess that’s enough.”


End file.
